


A New Beginning

by SimplyWriting



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Start, Brief look at pre-war life, Canon Divergence, Charisma is a dump stat, He is also a bit of a germophobe, Integration of game mechanics, Other, Profanity, The Sole Survivor is a grumpy little man, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Vault-tec, Who needs charisma? Not the Sole Survivor, vault-tec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyWriting/pseuds/SimplyWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the bombs fell, Eric had been a simple researcher conscripted by the government. After being forcibly assigned to Vault 111, Eric found himself the test subject for Vault-tec's latest experiments. Emerging 200 years later, he finds the world is home to endless violence, drugs, and giant flying disease vectors. With offers of friendship from the Minutemen and employment from the mysterious Institute, he finds himself in the middle of a political quagmire in the remains of the Commonwealth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the frying pan...

There had been predictions from both man and machine alike. “The end of the world was coming “ was a common sentiment. Eric had written them off as paranoid pessimists. 'Surely we aren't stupid enough to destroy each other.' was his rationale. 'Nobody benefits if everyone is dead'. Predictive analyst machines had warned of upcoming annihilation. 'Errors in their calculations. That all that is.' This was just a phase that the country was going through. It would pass. It had to. The Director, however, wasn't so sure. 

“I appreciate your concern, Sir, but this is entirely unnecessary.” protested Eric. “I'm quite happy to stay here and work. If you want to go, I would be overjoyed to stay here and do you paperwork for you.” He was hunched over a computer typing up a report on the experimental stimpacks. The military was going through them almost as fast as they were being produced. A better less expensive method of production had been requested. By request, of course, that meant ordered with no room for negotiation. Those who refuse to support the war effort were labeled as communists or at least sympathizers. Any who had fought back against said claims soon disappeared afterwards. The official explanation was that “They had regretted their transgressions and had decided to atone by fulfilling their patriotic duty”. Nobody actually believed that explanation, but somethings were better off not being protested. 

“While I appreciate your optimism regarding the current situation, this is not a suggestion. The government has ordered that all employees deemed 'essential' are to go to Vault 111 for a tour and to fill out paperwork. Be grateful for the opportunity. There are people who would love a spot in a vault.” 

Eric thought for a few seconds, wringing his hands together nervously. “I, however, am not a government employee. Rather, I am employee of a private contractor who has, umm, been contracted?” Eric didn't believe a word he had said, but he figured it worth a try. 

“This is a public university. It's owned by the education department who is owned by government.”

He sighed before getting up and giving a dejected “Yes, Sir.” There was no use in arguing with the Director.

 

“Welcome to Vault 111, where we are prepared for the future!” The cheery voice of the representative easily carried over the small crowd standing around the gear-shaped entrance. “It is here that you will be safe from the horrors of nuclear annihilation!” 

'Or from the horrors of seeing how little you have left after paying for a spot.' thought Eric bitterly. In his opinion, Vault-tec were scam artists playing off of everyone's fear. It was despicable. 

He look over the small community of Sanctuary Hills. It was a newer one. Built for those who could afford to live outside of the industrial hubs of Massachusetts such as Lexington. It had once been beautiful city, but the opening of the Corvega Assembly Plant had quickly changed that. It would have been an eyesore if it hadn't been hidden under clouds of toxic smog.

“And that concludes our presentation. Now before we begin registration, are there any questions?” The voice pulled Eric from his thoughts. There were murmurs in the crowd of people, but no questions. Somewhere in the group, a baby was starting to fuss.

“How do plan to address the need for oxygen for a group of a hundred people for an extended period of time?” The representative gave a nervous smile before flipping through the papers on his clipboard.

“That is an excellent question! We at Vault-tec are committed to providing a safe, sustainable, and healthy environment for our guests. Our best scientists have thought of everything that is needed for a enjoyable and risk-free experience. The amenities in here are the best money can buy! Our advanced technology is dependable and rigorously tested. With Vault-tec, your well being in our number one concern!” 

'Bullshit.'

“You didn't answer my ques-” Blaring sirens and flashing lights cut off his complaint. 

“WARNING! WARNING! NUCLEAR BOMBS HAVE MADE CONTACT. PLEASE SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A TEST.”

The Vault-tec employees began to usher the crowd on to the platform. Frantic voices filled the air. Somewhere, a couple was trying to soothe a crying baby. The rising voice of a representative panicking about not being let in was lost among the sirens. Eric stumbled on to the elevator as those around him pushed and shoved. He turned his eyes towards the horizon and saw a mushrooming cloud.

'This can't be real. Please don't let it be real!'

The descent into the earth had been quick enough to avoid initial wave of energy from the blast. The last sounds from the outside had been the sirens' warning to seek shelter and the screams of those who hadn't made it. 

 

The hour following had brought a variety responses. There were some who had yelled. Angry at the government for starting this war, angry at the Vault-tec employees for attempting to process everyone who had it in to the vault, angry at the world for ending. Many had cried, mourning the lost of friends and family. Others were silence as they processed what they had just seen, not wanting to believe what had happened. Eric was among the latter.

He rested on a bench, blue eyes starting at the metal floor. The voices around him seemed distant and muffled. Occasionally, a piece of news or sentence of mourning from those around him would cut through his thoughts and reach his attention.

“Confirmed strikes in New York and Pennsylvania.” 

“What happened to all those people outside?”

“Right this way, Sir”

“Who's my little guy? I wouldn't be going far. I'll just be over there.”

'It's gone. All gone. Civilization gone. Work gone. Family gone.' 

The brown leather shoes of an employee came into view. Eric looked up to find the weary face on an older man holding a clipboard.

“I understand it's difficult to comprehend what has happened, but we need to take your information for our records.” The words sounded hollow. The first twenty times it was said, it might have had meaning. Eric gave a slight nod.

“Your name?”

“Eric Booker” 

“Age?”

“25”

“Occupation?”

'Unemployed on the account of nuclear destruction.' thought Eric despondently.

“Researcher.”

“Thank you for your time. Take these, fill out the medical history form, and get changed. There are stalls down the hall and to the right. Once you've got your vault suit on, go to the elevator at the end of the hall and hand the form person waiting nearby. The lift will take you down to the vault dormitory.” 

Eric took the vault suit and clipboard from the man. He look over the form and filled it out, checking the appropriate boxes. Finishing the form, he started his way down the hall. Test it in his hands, he look over the vault suit curiously. It didn't seem to be of poor quality. In fact, it actually seemed nice. For Vault-tec anyways. He turned in to the room and closed the door. Eric quickly undressed and pulled on the suit. It was both stretchy and form fitting. He supposed it was supposed to be one-size-fits-all. It did fit, which was nice. He had been expecting to find the ends on the legs dragging on the floor as most other clothes did on his short frame. Glancing in the mirror, he frowned. 

“Well, that leaves nothing to the imagination.” 

Eric wandered down the hall towards the elevator, ready to meet his new community. He handed the form of to the smiling lady donning a lab coat. Eric stepped into the elevator and pressed the down button. The doors closed with a mechanical click.

A female robotic voice filled the elevator, “Airlock secured.”

There was silence and Eric briefly wondered if the elevator was broken. Gas suddenly filled the chamber with a hiss. His eyes widened and he covered his month with part of his vault suit. With his other hand, he pounded on the elevator doors. Eric didn't dare take a breath to yell for them to open the doors. There was no response. Eventually, the burning in his lungs won and he took an involuntary breath. The lack of oxygen burned his lungs, but the gas far worse. 

He leaned against the wall to stable himself then slid down as his legs grew weak. His head began to spin and ringing filled his ears. Eric's eyes stung and watered. Brightly color stars danced across the parts of his vision that didn't have darkness creeping in. His last thought was of damning Vault-tec before falling unconscious.


	2. And Into the Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I welcome any and all criticism!

A pounding headache and greeted Eric as he returned to the world of consciousness. He gave a low groan and tried rub his head in a futile attempt to ease the pain only to find his hand with restrained. This proved enough of a shock for him to open his eyes and figure out why, exactly, was he tied. As he looked around the room, the memories of what happened rushed back. Talking with the Director about registration, visiting the vault, the bombs, screaming from the outside, the elevator. 

The elevator.

Vault-tec.

With a renewed sense of purpose fueled by equal parts of panic and fear, Eric surveyed his surroundings, only to find he could see nothing. His glasses were gone. No glasses, no sight, no means of looking for an escape. Had they dropped in the gas chamber? No, they had been there. He remembered that. They had taken them. He filled had out that damn medical form. They knew how bad his eyesight was.

It had been intentional.

Eric tested the restraints. Pulling and twisting trying to find a weakness. Two on his wrists, two around his ankles. Leather. The same kind he saw in hospitals when he was a student. The kind used to restrain junkies that had come in hopped up on Buffout. The kind used on returning soldiers that were withdrawing from Psycho. Leather restrained connect to the metal frame of a hospital bed. This hadn't been some impulsive psychotic last minute decision from Vault 111's employees. It had been planned. All along, this had been planned. The thought of it all sickened him.

“They knew.” It had come out as a whisper. All those regulations he had learned, all those ethics he was taught, it was all lies. Eric leaned his head back and squeezed his tearing eyes shut, trying to will everything away. 

“Good! You're awake!” 

He opened his eyes to see the blurry image of a smiling scientist above him. If his guess was correct, the one who he handed the form to. 

“You!” 

“It looks like your short term memory is intact. That's a good sign. Some of the other subjects didn't quite retain their memories. It was a quite a shock to learn the world had ended again, the poor dears.” The lady jotted down notes on her clipboard, ignoring that anger of her ward. She pulled a ophthalmoscope and leaned down over him, shining the light in his eyes. “Excellent, pupil contraction is normal. You didn't sustain a concussion when you hit the floor.”

Eric glared up at her and then did something that had never crossed his mind before this time. He spat in her face. From the sound of disgust she made, he had hit his mark. Before, he had all always believe that physical acts of disapproval to be unnecessary along with most other forms of confrontation. There was no problem that couldn't be solved with proper communication and a few kind words. The idea of spitting was both disgusting in the physical sense and social sense. Germs everywhere. Not at a nice thing at all. Now, however, it seemed to be a perfectly valid course of action. 

“Fuck. You.” 

Another person strolled into the room and chuckled. A blurry white and grey figure didn't provide much help in identifying the newcomer. 

“Looks like we have a feisty one on our hands.” The voice belonged to a man, though not the same one that Eric had talked with earlier in vault. The woman grabbed a nearby tissue and wiped her face. Eric's imagination conjured up the image of her scowling. It probably wasn't accurate, but it pleased some petty part of him. “Sedate the subject. I don't want problems the first week of being down here.”

“Of course, Doctor.” Eric felt the pinch of the needle and a substance injected into his arm. “Good ol' Vitamin H. Perfect for any combative patient.” He sneered at his captor with vitriol. Haldol, also known as the “velvet hammer”. Effective enough to stop enough the strongest of Buffout addicts, but still safe enough to prevent respiratory depression. Eric felt his muscles go slack. His head felt like it was filled with cotton balls and his eyelids had weights attached.

'I swear I going to kill every last one of you.'

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Eric had lost track how long it had been since he entered the God-forsaken vault. He would wake up, mind blurred from drugs or pain. There had been times where he felt scalpels cutting into his skin with foreign objects being added or organic ones being removed. He would scream and lash out only to be pushed back into darkness. Other times he would lie paralyzed in his bed, listening to those who shared the same unfortunate fate as him. On the odd occasion, he would be stuck somewhere in between. Not quite awake, not quite asleep. Memories of his old life and memories of his new one would flit through his mind. 

There was one however that stuck out. The sounds were different, the voices not familiar. Gunshots and high-pitched electrical buzzes that could have only from energy weapons. Screams and shouts from the Vault-tec employees. A voice demanding to know where they stored the extras. Something about a cryogenic freezer? Ridiculous, that was simply science fiction. A comment about something being a good side project. Eric supposed even insane scientists needed hobbies. The memory ended with sound of electrical crackling. 

In the rough order the he could place them, that particular memory came last. There didn't seem to be anything that came after it. All that remained was darkness. Darkness which seemed to stay for a very long time in Eric's opinion, though his sense of time had never been the best. He had wondered if he had died during his time in his vault and he was now stuck in some form of purgatory. How long did purgatory last? He didn't know.

It wasn't until he hit the cold lab floor, covered in fluid, and coughing that he realized with both joy and dread that he was still very much alive.


	3. Do you want to start a new game?

Eric was cold and covered in a slippery green fluid, but he was alive. He figured it was better to focus on that last bit. Wiping the slime away from his face, he looked around. Aside from some blinking computers, he seemed to be alone. To his surprise, the room was in focus. No longer was his world distorted by blurriness. Eric looked at what he had fallen from. It was a clear tank of sorts, not unlike the kind found in poorly made science-fiction movies used to suspend experiments. There was also a heavy Pipboy attached to his arm which stubbornly refused to leave despite his attempts at removing it.

Slowly, he crept out of the room and down that hallway. The florescent lights overhead flickered as Eric checked each room.

“Where is everyone?” He muttered to himself quietly. Eric had expected to run into someone by now. As he came to an elevator, he found the answer to his question. Lying in front of it, were two skeletons which earned a squeak of surprise from Eric. Aside from some clothing and an old 10mm pistol, there was nothing left on the skeletons. “Well, I guess that answers where everyone went.” He didn't want to know what kill them and he didn't plan on staying to find out. 

As he entered the lift, he looked at the clothes and then himself. The thought of wearing clothes of the deceased didn't appeal to him, not that he had a problem with robbing the dead employees. Wandering around naked also didn't appeal. Eric's desire for modesty and protection won out over his discomfort with corpse clothes. 

'Ew. God, I hope these aren't contaminated with some blood borne disease.'

He pulled on the Vault 111 jumpsuit and boots along with a dirty lab coat. Eric wasn't about to say no to pockets. He picked up the gun gingerly and turned it over in his hands. The former researcher didn't know how to shoot a gun. Guns were for soldiers and he was not a soldier. The gun ended up in the pocket of his coat along with the small box of ammo lying next to it. He shook his head.

“What am I doing?” He whispered quietly. 

 

The Pipboy on his arm chirped and in the both right corner of his vision the text “10mm pistol – 25 ammunition” popped up. He stepped back in surprised and tried the wipe the words from his vision. After a few seconds, they faded. 

“What the hell was that?!”

 

The little personal computer didn't respond. Eric tried to shrug it off as hallucination and stepped into the elevator hit the “up” button. Thankfully, the elevator hummed and moved upward with no gas filling the lift. Thoughts raced through his mind as he waited. What had Vault-tec done to him? Why is everyone dead? Eric contemplated the clean skeletons he had saw. No decomposing flesh. Just how long had it been?

A small electronic ding caught his attention.

“Top floor. Thank you for choosing Vault-tec! We hope you enjoyed your stay!”

Eric pulled his gun out his pocket and stepped out. There might still be others around.

“I most certainly did not enjoy my stay.” He grumbled to himself. Over his shoulder he snapped at the lift, “And I didn't choose Vault-tec! The government did!”

“Thank for choosing Vault-tec!”

'Damn machine' he thought to himself. Eric glanced around quickly hoping his little tantrum with the machine didn't attract any attention. A giant cockroach skittered out from under a table. 

“Oh, now that is just disgusting!” What kind of pigsty were these psychos living in? Did they have no respect for sanitation standards? 

The insect lept at Eric with a hiss and bit his arm. In the bottom left corner of his vision, a green bar came up with a sliver of red at the end along with the text 1+ RADS. Eric stomped the bug in anger. It crunched under his foot. With each stomp he expressed his thoughts regarding his current situation.

“Fucking Vault-Tec! Fucking roaches! Fucking hallucinations!”

The bug, now quite dead, remained motionless on the floor. Eric looked at the bottom of his boot. It was covered in oversized-bug guts. He wiped his foot on the floor before continuing through the vault. The presence of such vermin in the vault confirmed his suspicions that he was the only person in here. Every few rooms or so, he would find something useful. A couple stimpacks, a 200 year old bottle of Nuka-Cola, more 10mm ammunition, a can of cram and a dusty security baton. With each item he picked up, the green text would appear for a few seconds before fading. Eric had accepted this was no longer a hallucination and wrote it off as Vault-tec's doing. Why they did it, he had no idea. All terminals he had come across in his searching had been destroyed which left without answers.

It had taken a couple hours, but Eric felt he had thoroughly managed to loot the place. Hiding beneath a yellowed bunk bed had been an empty duffle bag which he had unloaded some of his loot into. The pockets of his lab coat were beginning to overflow. With the bag slung over his back, he stood in front of the control panel that managed the giant gear that was the vault's exit. Eric didn't know what awaited him outside or if there was an outside left. He looked at the metal rooms behind him before connecting his Pipboy to the control panel. There was nothing left for him in here except giant bugs and bad memories. The door groaned to life and rolled to the side. Eric entered what he hoped was the last elevator in this place and hit the button to leave. As the lift creaked and groaned during its ascension, Eric wondered what he would find beyond the vault.

He quietly prayed to whatever God there was it wasn't more roaches. A world filled with those giant disease vectors would truly be horrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I welcome any and all criticism. Let me know what I can do better!


	4. Brand New Day

Eric shielded his eyes as the gear shaped door shifted to reveal the afternoon sun. The lift creaked as it came to a stop. Stepping off the platform, he looked around. Crates and debris littered the immediate area along with the occasional skeleton. Leafless trees filled the landscape along with other lifeless flora.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” called out Eric on the off chance there were people nearby. Aside from a group of startled crows taking flight, he was met with silence. He looked over at the horizon where he remembered the shock waves emanating from. 

_'Are there any people left?'_

Adjusting the duffle bag on his back, he started his towards the ruins of Sanctuary Hills. Eric tried to ignore the the words “Location – Vault 111” popping up in the corner his vision. Just what had Vault-tec done to him? Crossing a decaying wooden bridge, he surveyed the ruins. Some of the houses remained standing while others had collapsed. The remains of burned cars rested in their carports. In the distant, there was the movement of a robot.

Eric's eyes lit up in excitement. It wasn't a person, but it was something. It if survived the bombs then it might have information on it about what happened. Perhaps at the very least, the artificial personality could keep him amused and provide some assistance. 

“Mr. Handy! Mr. Handy, over here!” Eric jogged over to the butler that hadn't quite moved on from its job of trimming browned hedges. In the back of his mind, Eric briefly wondered if it was defective. The explosions could have certainly knocked something loose inside of it.

“You, you're from that vault! I remember seeing you among the crowd as I was seeing my family off. Oh, I was so worried that the mister and missus hadn't made it in time, but you're proof. Tell me, is there anyone else? Anybody with the last name Delaney?”

Eric's eyebrows rose as the robot blabbered on. He had worked with this style of robot before in a lab, but never had he met one with such personality or such an emotional AI. Then again, he had never met a domestic Mr. Handy. General Atomics could have installed a different AI package, but he never remembered reading about it. 

“No, there isn't anyone else. Just me.” It seemed wilt just a bit in disappointment. 

“Sir, if I may inquire, how did you manage to survive so long? And what to the rest of the dwellers. Surely you weren't the only to have made it down?” 

He frowned in confusion. What the hell did that mean? Eric had his doubts about Vault-tec's quality, but surely that isn't what it meant. Carefully he asked, “How long is been since the bombs fell?”

“It's been about 200 years since the bombs dropped, Sir.” Eric's jaw dropped and he struggled to get out a coherent thought. “Well, a bit over 210 years give or take a few dings to the old chronometer. Which why I am quite surprised, but still delighted mind you, that the original people made it out alive. Speaking of which, where are the others?” The robotic sensors looked at him imploringly. If Eric didn't know any better, he would say the Mr. Handy looked hopeful. The notion, however, was ridiculous. Robots didn't – couldn't – have emotions. Yet still, he found himself lying.

“I don't know why we were able to live so long” Only a partial lie. “But there was a, um, problem with the reactor. I was the only one who made it. The rest died painlessly in their sleep.” Silence. The robot stared and Eric awkwardly stood there looking back. No further questions were asked and Eric didn't feel the need to provide more information for his hole-filled lie. 

“I'm quite sorry to hear that, Sir.”

“Me too, Mr. Handy. Me too.”

The robot changed the subject in an attempt to salvage the conversation. “Where are my manners? Please forgive me for not introducing myself. I'm Codsworth. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister?” Codsworth trailed off.

“Eric Booker. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Codsworth.” 

 

\--------------

 

Eric had inquired if there was anyone left and was informed, much to his delight, that there were indeed people left. Codsworth had direct him to the nearby town of Concord. “Just over the footbridge, past the Red Rocket truck stop, and a bit to the southeast. You should remember the way.” His delight at the prospect of humanity was quick replaced by disgust upon the discovery of mauled human corpse lying near a bludgeoned body of a canine with a slightly rusted tire iron sticking out. He had pulled the weapon out with the rationale that bullets were limited and thus should be conserved. That and he didn't know exact process of shooting a gun. The summary of his knowledge was 'point the shooty end at the target'. At the truck stop, Eric had come across a friendly dog. Despite his best attempts at leaving it behind, the dog had insisted on following him around. He just simply hoped it wasn't infested with fleas. As it turned out, the dog proved to be useful as fighting off giants bugs. Radiation, Eric had learned, not only produced giants roaches, but giant mosquitoes. The bizarre text had informed him they were called “blood bugs”. Why it apparently knew the name of those flying monstrosities, he had no clue. It simply another item added to his growing list of questions. He brought the tire iron down on the last of the two insects, crushing it with a crunch. The dog barked and ran ahead him towards the town and sounds of gunfire.

“No, bad dog. Don't run towards gun shots!” 

The dog paid no heed to his companions. Eric sighed in exasperation and followed after him. He decidedly ignored the two-headed cow corpse which the ever helpful text informed him was a “brahmin corpse”.

_'Don't think about it, it will only makes things worse.'_

As the pair approach the city, the sounds of fighting grew louder. Eric crouched down and moved between the houses in an attempt to stay hidden with his canine companion follow suit. Peaking around the corner of an old townhouse, he saw a group of grimy people with some wearing cloth sacks on their heads. Near the top of the old museum, he saw a man dressed in attire the vaguely reminded Eric of old uniforms for the Revolutionary War. He looked between the two sides shooting at each other. 

_'Which ones are the bad guys?.'_

“When I get in there, I'm gonna tear your fucking throat out and skin your friends alive!” The threat was met with agreement in the form of jeers and laughter. One individual supplied a suggestion of another gruesome act. 

 

_'Well, that answers that question.'_

The dog barked angrily and raced towards one of the attackers. Red text above the person's head labeled him as 'raider' along with a red bar of the same shade. The raider turned with a gun aimed towards the canine and fired a shot that grazed animal's shoulder. After a split second's deliberation, Eric pulled out his pistol and aimed the barrel at the guy's head. His finger hesitated on the trigger. He was not a soldier or a fighter. Hell, he flunked out of basic training after two weeks. The drill sergeant, after realizing Eric posed a bigger threat to his own platoon than the enemy, begged him to drop out. The gun pointed lower than before. He wasn't a senseless killer like Vault-tec.

_'I'm not a murderer.'_

Eric fired what he intended to be a warning shot the raider's feet. The bullet ended of grazing the enemy's leg.

“Put the gun down and walk away. I don't want to fight you!” 

He would give them a chance to stop. It could end peacefully without anyone dying. That would be the right thing to do.

“Motherfucker!” snarled the raider, drawing the attention of some of the others along with their fire. Eric ducked behind house in time to avoid being shot. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he realized what he just himself got in to. There was moment of relative calm as they, he assumed, reloaded. He seized the opportunity and snuck over to the other side of the house. Leaning out from behind, he aimed and fired three times. The first bullet missed its target and the other two hit in raider chest and leg. Judging from the blood spraying out, he had hit an artery in the leg.

The smell of ozone reached his nose as the man in the museum killed his target. Eric took a deep breath. By his count there should be two more. The dog jumped from behind a mailbox and caught one by the throat. The gurgling scream of the woman suffocating on her own blood simultaneously sent shivers down his spine and made his very grateful that the beast took a liking to him. 

_'One more. Just one more.'_

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Eric aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the final raider's arm and from above, a red laser burned her face. 

“I'm friendly, don't shoot please!” called out Eric with an edge of panic creeping into his voice. 

“I've got a group of settlers inside and the raiders are almost through the door! Grab that laser musket and help us. Please!”

“I'm coming!” responded Eric against his better judgment. This was going to get him killed. He just knew it. 

Grabbing the musket and entering the building, the sounds of shooting and yelling surrounded him. He crouched down and hid in the room to the right. Turning the laser musket over in his hands, Eric smiled. Traditional guns, he knew nothing about. Energy weapons, however, were more familiar. He had even help to work on some designs for them. This one looked rather jury-rigged, but it would work. He cranked the handle and took aim at raider standing near the railing on the second floor. The bolt of energy hit its target, but earned the shooter retaliatory fire. Eric pulled back, but not before bullet whizzed by his head, cutting him above his eyebrow. He hissed in pain and pressed the palm of his hand against it to stem the bleeding. Eric quickly moved into the next room, not wanting to be found by anyone else. 

“Take your tea back, you jackanapes!”

Oh great, those still worked. Nothing like lousy historical banter to give him away. By some measure of luck, the murderous psycho in the room didn't notice him. Pulling out his tire iron, he crept up behind her and struck the back of her head. The head caved in with a sickening crunch which was sure make an appearance in his nightmares. A fine spray of blood misted his face and chest.

“Sorry.” He whispered to fallen body. Eric truly meant the apology. Eyeing a stimpack strapped to her belt, he took and continued his way moving up the flights of stairs. It wasn't like it was going to do her much good. Stimpacks were good, but they couldn't heal death or a bashed in cranium. Behind him, the dog followed. Rounding the corner into another exhibit, Eric heard voices.

“I'm telling you man, let's get the hell out of here. We've got no reason to hang around and get shot.”

_'Maybe they can be reasoned with.'_

“Shut up you pansy! We hold out for the others, like we're supposed to!

“What are you? Deaf? Can't you hear that someone's out there shooting the place up? I ain't sitting around waiting to die.

“I swear to God, make move and I'll shoot you myself!”

_'Maybe not. Still worth a try though.'_

As long as he gave the likely ones a chance, he wasn't a senseless killer. They had the chance to live. Readying his musket, he warned them.

“I'm giving you a chance. Put down your guns and surrender and I won't shoot you. Promise!”

“Get'em!”

Well that didn't work. They came around the corner faster than Eric had expected with their guns pointing at his face. As their fingers move towards the triggers, time slowed to a crawl. The raiders were outlined in green with each limb showing a different percentage which Eric assumed to mean his odds of hitting them. Ever so slowly they moved, correcting their aim. Their faces seemed frozen in a snarl. 

_'Heads. I want to shoot their heads!'_

His body moved on its own with a proficiency he didn't know he possessed. Eric's eyes were locked on the scene, physically unable to look away. The bullets flew through air and exited through the back of their heads. He could see everything. The blood, brain, and shards of bone exiting their skulls and painting the wall behind them. The look of surprise of their faces. The way they dropped like a puppet with its strings cuts. Time speed back up and the bodies fell with a dull thud. It had taken a split second, but it felt like it had taken a good ten minutes for it to occur. This had to be a result of Vault-tec's experiments. It was the only reasonable answer.

“What the hell was that?” whispered Eric in shock. Sweat ran down his face and his heart thudded in his chest. The inside of his chest burned like he had finished marathon. He stared down at the bodies who's eyes stared back at him blankly. Kneeling next to them, he closed their eyes. Sighing, he stood back up and continued his way up the building.

Passing a faded Nuka-Cola machine, he froze.

“I'm comin' in there and I'm gonna skin every last one of ya!”

“Come on, man. They ain't going nowhere. We got other shit to deal with.”

“You hear that? I gotta go take a little walk. But I'll be back and you'll be dead!”

Seriously, what was it with these people and skinning others? Eric pulled out the 10mm gun and slowly moved his way over to a gap in the wall. Resting the bottom of the barrel on a wooden board, he aimed it right at the lower spine of the second raider. One shot, one yell of pain, and one raider paralyzed from the waist down on the floor. It had given away his position, but it had been worth it.

“You're dead!” snarled the raider as he rounded the corner. Eric pulled the trigger only to hear a faint click. The gun was out of ammo and he didn't know how to reload it. Eric was now inclined to agreed with the enemy's assessment. A sharped pool cue went into his shoulder before he could react. The raider yanked it out before aiming for his throat. Eric hit floor to avoid the weapon and kicked one of his leg out, his heel firmly connecting with the raider's crotch. As the attacker doubled over in pain, he yanked the pool cue from his grip and stuck through an exposed part of his neck. The arterial spray covered his face and part of the wall next to him. A shudder passed through him, though he wasn't sure if it was fear or disgust. Eric applied pressure to his injured arm and stepped over the body. Looking over the balcony, he realized he was at the top floor. Fishing a stimpack out his lab coat pocket, he injected into his arm. The wounds on him began to itch as they healed. The dog appeared next to him and scratched at the door nearby. Eric briefly wondered where the mutt kept on disappearing to.

The man who had pleaded for his help opened the door. “Come in, before they come back!” Eric, with the dog by his side, entered and looked around. The wooden door shut behind them. “Man, I don't know who you are, but your timing is impeccable. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen.” Eric stared at the man in front of him. With the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, the full reality of the situation was hitting. People had tried to kill him. He had killed others! His horror shifted to a new topic. Brain and blood covered him and he had probably breathed in particulates of both. So many diseases are transmitted by blood. He was a walking bio-hazard!

_'I need to burn these clothes. I need to shower. I need to be disinfected. I need to fill out the paperwork reporting exposure to- '_

His panicked thoughts were cut off by the Preston. “You look a bit shocked.” Eric nodded at that statement. For the first time, he noticed the other people in the room. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he asked.

“Is everyone okay?

“Nobody is hurt, thankfully. We're still trapped though, but we have a plan. Sturges, tell him.” Eric sat down in a nearby chair listening to the plan. There was power armor on the roof along with a minigun. In the basement, there was a fusion core that was behind a locked door. A small frown creased his face.

“I will try to get you that fusion core, but no promises.” Preston seemed relieved. An elderly lady sitting in a chair, who had introduced herself as Mama Murphy, patted the dog's head. 

“It looks like Dogmeat found us some help.”

Eric looked down Dogmeat who was wagging his tail. The name next to him updated from 'Dog' to 'Dogmeat'. “Dogmeat? You're planning on eating him?” His stomach turned a bit at the thought of someone eating the happy hound. This earned him a laugh from Mama Murphy. 

“We would never eat, Dogmeat. That's just his name.” Eric relaxed at hearing that. The sound of raider activity outside caught their attention. 

“Quick question. Does anyone here know how to reload a gun?” 

A woman by the name of Marcy Long groaned. “We're gonna die here, aren't we?”

 

\-----------------------

Eric eyed the metal suit before him. During an internship with the government, he had helped to design components of new power armor. He had never received formal training in operating one. All power armor has been reserved for military use only. Placing the core in the back of armor made it come to life with a hum. Hesitantly, he pulled himself into the suit which then snapped close behind. For a second, it felt like he was back in the vault, strapped down and unable to move. Before him, a screen flickered to life informing him of his health, radiation exposure, ammunition, and fusion core level. Slowly, he tried to move forward. The movements were slow and uncoordinated, but it was movement. 

The minigun was on the plane, just like Sturges said. Eric gripped the gun and pulled. To his great surprise, the gun came off easily and felt rather light. Staring at the gun in his hands, he whispered to himself, “This is amazing.” 

“Boss! There's someone up on the roof!” Eric's eyes widened. The brief moment of awe was quickly replaced by fear. “Why don't ya come down here and show us that pretty gun of yours?” The question on Eric's mind was answered by a small box of text popping up. “Power armor prevents damage from falling”. He wasn't sure how much he believed from those randoms blurts of text he received, but at the moment falling to his death sounded less painful than getting shot to death. Or skinned, he reminded himself. With a deep breath, he walked forward from the vertibird and off the building. The ground below him shook when he landed. To his surprise, he was alive with nothing broken. The sound of bullets hitting his suit focused his attention. 

“If we could stop fighting and walk away from this, that'd great!” Eric yelled out over the gunfire. Laughter was his answer. He took that as a “no”. Squeezing the handle, the gun spun for a second before spraying the raiders with bullets. Half of the raider closest to him was pulverized into bloody gore before falling to the ground. The sight of it made Eric's stomach churn. From overhead, Preston's fired at those who hung back as reinforcements. 

“Keep them away from the door!” 

“Got it!”

Taking a defensive position in front of the museum, he fired again. It made him an easy target, but his armor alleviated some of the fear. The minigun, just as Sturges had said, proved more than adequate for handling the enemy. Eric fired the gun in small bursts and Preston took care those who sheltered behind the sandbags. He felt hope bubbling up inside of him. It was working! The raiders were falling and they were winning. The sound of clanking and rumbling followed by a roar from a giant monstrosity effectively ended the moment of optimism. 

“Garvey! What the hell is that?” 

“Deathclaw! Don't let it get close to you!”

_'Deathclaw. Of course that's its name. Why wouldn't be something terrible?'_ Eric bitterly thought.

The beast picked up a raider and shook it before crushing it in his hands. Witnessing this, Eric felt the sudden urge to run and leave behind the settlers. They weren't his problem and he owed them nothing. It would be better to return to Sanctuary Hills and tell Codsworth he found nothing. The butler wouldn't investigate. It would be the smart thing to do. It was be the sane thing to do. But it wouldn't be the _right_ thing to do.

_Stupid conscience._

Against his better judgment, Eric move closer and fired the minigun. The shower of metal against the beast had little effect beyond drawing its attention and enraging it. Abandoning the now dead raider, it raced towards him. For something so big, it was remarkably fast. Eric attempt to run towards the nearby ruins of the hardware store, but power armor was not made for speed. He felt himself being lifted off the ground and shaken. Claws scraped against the back of his suit trying to open it like a can of cram. It bent and buckled under the abuse, but remained intact. A red streak flew overhead and caught the deathclaw in the eye. It dropped Eric to rub its in an attempt to rid itself of the irritation. 

Seizing the moment, Eric scrambled into the hardware store. The doorway, he hoped, would be too small for it. The deathclaw, having recovered from the laser shot, charged towards the building. The head, neck, and part of the shoulders made it in before becoming stuck. It gave a roar which left Eric's ears ringing. It appeared his luck, for now at least, was holding out. The minigun's bullets chewed through beast's face. Eric had to give the beast some credit. It was a tough hardy creature. Few things could last that long with hundreds of bullets hitting it. With a final defiant snarl, it fell. 

He stared at it for a good minute, not quite believing it was dead. With no apparent breathing or movement, he concluded it was indeed dead. Ducking through an display frame, he made his way into the museum.

“That was... a pretty amazing display. I'm just glad you're on our side”

Eric looked at the ragtag group. Jun was hunched over on the floor with Marcy standing protectively next to him. The old lady was sitting in a chair looking as if this was just another normal day. Sturges was hanging back with Preston. 

“Are you guys going to be okay now?” Inquired Eric. He didn't want to them die after the trouble he just went though.

“Yeah. For a while, anyway. We can at least move someplace safer.” Said Preston. “Listen. When we first met, you seemed a little wary about helping us, but you did. And we owe you our lives. So... it ain't much, but it's the best way I can say thank you.” He handed Eric a small brown bag that clinked. 

“Thank you, but I didn't do it for -” He looked in the bag. “Nuka-Cola bottle caps?” Eric felt thoroughly confused. “Not to sound ungrateful, but why are you giving me bottle caps?” Preston stared at him as if he'd grow a second head.

“Because it's money?” The man explained. 

“Bottle caps are currency now?”

“You aren't from around here, are you?”

“Nope.”

Eric felt very awkward. Changing the topic away from his apparent lack of knowledge about the new world, he commented “I didn't do it for the uh.. money.”

This got smile out of Preston. “Hey, sorry. I'm used to everyone being in it only for themselves. You know, you remind me of my friends. The other Minutemen, the ones who gave their lives for something bigger than themselves. You should come with us to Sanctuary. We could use the help.”

Eric thought for a second. The world was nothing like he had remembered. It was filled with giant insects, murdering psychopaths, and radiation. If nothing else, he need someone to show him how to survive.

“All right, Garvey. I'm in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write fight scenes. As usual, all criticism is welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome any and all criticism! I will add more tags as they become relevant.


End file.
